Almost Human
by 7dreamers-scenarios
Summary: "You thought you were the only ones with walls? Wall Iris has been erected for decades, you humans are just blind." The raging war of Titan vs mankind has lasted a century, and now another foe has appeared. Titan shifters proclaimed as Legends with one singular goal: to destroy humanity. But, fate has its part to play, too. A storm is coming. "Your walls are coming down." (LeviXOC)
1. A Silver Princess

**Hello everyone, so you will note that this story has significantly changed. Everything but the title has been altered. I decided to rework my plot after careful consideration. I hope that you enjoy this new idea! It is definitely a new spin on the story. All of the ideas for 'Wall Iris' are my own. Still in the same world, though, promise! Also, this is rated M for a reason! Language and sexual content are going to be present (lemons/lime eventually). If that bothers you, please do not read! Thank you! **

**Synopsis: "You thought you were the only ones with walls? Wall Iris has been erected for decades, you humans are just blind." The raging war of Titan vs mankind has lasted a century, and now another foe has appeared. Titan shifters proclaimed as Legends with one singular goal: to destroy humanity. But, fate has its part to play, too. A storm is coming. Rolling, ominous clouds full of insidious twists and turns. Full of legendary battles, lies, and deceit. But also full of acceptance, unexpected friendships, and unconditional love. Freedom's calling. "Your walls are coming down."**

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Attack on Titan or its characters. **

**Almost Human**

**Chapter One: A Silver Princess**

"_**In my moments of doubt, I've told myself:**_

_**If not me, who?**_

_**If not now, when?"**_

_**-Emma Watson-**_

"Princess!" an elderly handmaid cried, bursting into the young woman's quarters.

"Yes, Gertrude? What is it?" The armored princess lowered two gleaming blades.

Aria's silver gaze softened upon the withered woman shadowing her doorway. The gray wisps of hair peeking out from her tightly coiled bun made her look less severe than usual as she bustled forward with a sealed letter. Noting the Great Eye stamped in violet wax, Aria bit her lip in anticipation.

_The royal seal._ She'd know that sigil anywhere. Could draw its profound shape in her sleep if she were asked to.

Aria heaved a theatrical sigh, sheathing her blades. The moon-white of her fingers whispered forward, stealing the parchment from wrinkled hands. Surely enough, the tight, concise cursive of the king's hand was scrawled along the rolled surface.

"Ah, His Majesty. I see." Pursing her lips thoughtfully, she added, "Thank you, Gertrude."

"Of course, Princess." Ancient blue eyes hardened on Aria's light armor.

She donned it after shucking out of the ridiculous gown she'd been forced into this morning. How could a woman walk in such restrictions? Let alone train!?

The light armor was much more suitable. Made for efficient maneuvers with far more inconspicuous places to hide her arsenal: daggers shoved beneath the vambraces on her forearms, another pair shadowing her calves, a shield hidden by the wolf pelt slung about her shoulders, and vials of poisons secured by the leather straps around her breasts.

Aria felt every bit the warrior she portrayed in her gear. A pleased, triumphant grin worked itself over her face, slashing pretty, feminine features until they were unrecognizably lupine. Gertrude's own features twisted into a grimace at the girl's obvious satisfaction.

Clucking like an angry mother hen fussing over the feathers of her chick, the handmaid's wrinkled finger toyed with a tangled strand of Aria's white hair. "Now really, Aria! I spent all of that time this morning to make you look presentable for your father's meeting, and now look what you've done? Wearing men's clothing and tangling your hair horrendously! What am I to do with you?"

Aria chuckled under her breath, scanning the letter from the king. _Report to the meeting hall on the hour._ Only ten minutes to trek the entire castle! Without giving herself a second to lose over appearances—it never occurred for her to do so in the first place—she sprinted from her chambers to the catacombs.

"I'm sorry, Gertrude!" She called over her shoulder without an ounce of sincerity.

"ARIA!" The handmaid shook an angry fist at the girl's wolfish grin.

Following the maze of stone and tapestry, Aria passed many confused guards and sentinels. Alerted by her haste, they jolted from their posts, but were calmed by her signature silvery blonde hair and eyes. Just the Princess causing a raucous—_again_.

They went back to doing what sentries do best: _nothing_.

Courtiers and courtesans strolling the halls gasped and dove out of the way to keep from being trampled. Scowling, they murmured about her lack of propriety, wishing that for once she might hold herself as the princess she was supposed to be.

But being a princess was more than fine clothing and thrones. It was protecting and serving and standing with your kind. It was being strong and leading her people to the freedom they deserved.

_Someday…someday soon. I promise. _Tiny hands of an internal clock spun faster and faster within the girls pumping heart, racing toward a horizon that she couldn't quite see over. One that she was desperately chasing in each of her dreams. One the held fruition of her dream: a place where her people could live on without restraints.

The clock in Aria's heart wasn't the only one racing. _**Tick…Tick…Tick…**_ The bell tower's gleaming clock face winked down at the princess.

_That's five minutes down_…Keeping track of each second, Aria reveled in the challenge. Making a bet with herself, she set ridiculous stakes to face should she fail. _If I don't make it there on time, I will wear a corset to train in for three months._ A burst of speed lifted her feet from the stone.

_Like hell!_ _I can't stand sitting in those._ The thought of running or fighting in one was enough to send her rushing through the chill of castle walls until she rounded the last corner.

"Made it." She panted, but a triumphant smirk slid across her mouth. "And with two minutes to spare."

Another goal met. A challenge won.

Ticking off the remaining seconds, she swaggered through the set of double doors. Obsidian glass gilded with gold and violet, the sigil of Wall Iris hewn out of the center: an all-seeing eye staring into the truth of the world.

"Gentlemen." Inclining her silvery head, she seated herself on the right of her father: King of Mount Iris.

"Ah, my dearest daughter, it would appear you received my note concerning the meetings time change. How nice of you to make yourself _presentable_." A hint of distain flickered to life in the king's onyx eyes.

Offering him a cheeky grin, she flicked one tangled lock of hair from her silver plated armor. "Oh, but of course, Your Grace. Just barely though, the note almost didn't make it in time." An exchange of knowing, furious, slowly seething glances, then: "—_oh_! And, what a shame that would have been."

Ignoring her stab at sarcasm, Abaddon's armor whined as he stood. Metal grinding over metal, it shifted over the impressive mass of his body as he made to move around the round table in a sort of spidery promenade.

Those depthless onyx eyes drew in the table's undivided attention; stillness suffocating the idle chatter of the councilmen until only bated breath disturbed the quiet. No one dared to disrupt the stalking beast, opting instead to sit quietly, obediently watching the sniffing lion circling them curiously.

"Councilmen, let us commence." Penetrating the silence, Abaddon engulfed the chamber with the crackling of his voice.

The mouth shaped hearth screamed as smoldering stumps coughed flame and ash. Jolting from their seats, twelve pairs of eyes were unnerved by the fireplace shaped like a human mouth mid-scream.

A lethal smile morphed Abaddon's thin lips. "It is time to do a little…pest control."

Those ebony eyes wavered over his daughter, who blinked with everyone else. The king's armored boots struck smooth stone in a symphony of '_**scrape**_-_**clank'**_, quickening the pulse of the table.

_When did he move?_

Watching her father admirably, Aria noted the lethal grace by which he prowled the perimeter of the pale room. A feat that was made more impressive by his massive girth. The princess had spent many years honing such unearthly stealth, but Abaddon seemed to have acquired it at conception.

The other councilmen trembled. There was something in the sureness, in the sheer power of his gait that made them uneasy; that kept them from appreciating the haunting beauty of his savage grace.

A heavily scarred hand rose to stroke his trimmed black beard, snapping Aria from her hypnosis. "As you all know, this year marks the one hundred year anniversary of _Wall_ _Iris_."

The councilmen gave a hesitant applause. Abaddon held up one hand to finish. "But, it also marks the one hundred year anniversary of _their_ walls."

No one needed him to elaborate. Abaddon eluded to the _Walls_ _of_ _Man_. Their greatest enemy and threat. Aria's jaw tightened, gorge rising with the thought of the horrors they inflicted upon her life. Her silver gaze falling over the volcano of white-gray ash collecting in the screaming hearth.

There was a shift in the room. Soft, tremulous murmuring; stony glares hardening on corners of the alabaster walls; fists striking the oak purchase of the table.

"We all have some—." Abaddon's obsidian stare glittered in the firelight as he paused. The men of this council knew the atrocities incurred by man better than anyone, after all. "—past there, don't we, gentlemen?"

Grim sets of eyes lingered over his gargantuan stature, waiting, _needing_ him to move on. To save them. Again. The king suppressed a wicked smirk, his violet cloak draping around him like death's incarnate.

His palm coiled loosely over the pommel of his blade: the all seeing eye of Iris. The sword of the gods. Its steel as flecked and scarred as the one wielding it, marked with the wars it endured for them. For their kind. For _Wall_ _Iris_.

That harsh grumble of thunder filled every crack and crevice of the room as he said, "Have you all forgotten your history? Perhaps a lesson, then?"

"You know we haven't, Your Grace. Why would you ask us, The Council of Twelve, such a foolish question?" Lord Bellrose asked pointedly.

Those glacier blue eyes frozen with a hardness marring his perfection. His memories of the brutality of war hung over head like a waiting noose, ready at any moment to strangle that smooth throat and drag him to where his father lie moldering in the ground. Jaw feathering, nearly splintering, he scowled sharply as the king regarded him with a spidery smile.

The insolence triggered hushed gasps from his fellow councilmen. Blaise Bellrose was notorious for his foul temperament, debauchery, and, of course, open disrespect. Aria wasn't at all phased by his audacious behavior, and neither was the king for that matter, after all Blaise remained one of his loyal servants. No, Aria was far more interested in her father's unraveling web.

_What is he getting at? Why lead us on in this way?_

The fathomless black of Abaddon's gaze glimmered dangerously. A spider with a fly in its clutch. Another apprehensive silence blanketed the table as the king stopped next to a map framed in ivory upon the wall behind his seat. Pivoting on his armored heel, he brushed a set of twisted fingers across the dated map of _Man's_ _Walls_, coming to rest on the outermost ring: _Wall_ _Maria_.

"We are going to take them down. In five years time, their walls will fall." He purred.

Another round of surprised gasps. A lord with a scraggly gray beard and stomach the size of a barrel stammered, "W-w-what?"

A previous idea, one deemed impossible after the many lives it ensnared. Entire families erased from this world in one foul sweep of tragedy.

Every face above the table was a grave, grim mask. Aria still felt the emptiness; still felt the grief press over her bones from the Great War.

How many more could the city spare? How many soldiers were left?

_Not enough…_

Abaddon's charcoal armor glistened in the brightness of the room—all white, except for that horrid mouth shaped hearth. That scarred hand continued its lazy trace around _Wall_ _Maria_.

Cries bubbled. A slow, hesitant flurry of the first snowflakes before the onslaught of a ferocious blizzard of angry white ice.

"You've gone mad! We don't have enough power to bring down the _Walls_ _of_ _Man_!" The elder Lord of the Hoover line cried, shifting from his seat, pointing one gnarled finger at the king's back.

"Madness? You should talk, Lord Hoover! Who butchered his own son?" Lord Braun asked. His arms crossed over his robed chest, a smirk climbing over his lips as the ancient man sputtered.

"Hold your tongue about what you know nothing of, Braun! Cocky little—."

"Wicked, traitorous old—." Lord Braun snarled.

"Traitorous?!" Lord Hoover's curved spine nearly straightened at that one.

Lord Leonhart pounded one fist for order—_a makeshift gavel_, Aria mused. "Gentlemen, focus!"

Looking to the broad shoulders of his king, he said, "Now, my king, you know I have always supported breaching those godforsaken walls, but why now?"

"Who cares? Let's go! I'll rally our forces at once!" Commander Stein crowed, exuberant with the idea of bloodshed.

His massive chest bumped the table back as he stood from his chair. A horrifying gash spiraled down the entire left side of his face, debilitating his eye. Aria shivered involuntarily as appalling war stories whispered through her mind. Stein had led her people into many battles—none of which were successful.

"We haven't strategized any _lucid_ plans, _commander_. Can't have you winging it like last time…you do recall how it is you received that _beauty_ mark of yours, right?" Lord Bellrose drawled, picking his nails lazily with the tip of his blade.

The mangled commander glared furiously at the young man. Blaise sagged with boredom, slowly blinking sapphire eyes. Muscular arms swung down hard, hands bracing against the cracking wood of the table as the commander growled, "Little pricks like you don't even deserve a spot on the esteemed council." His tawny eyes narrowed at the young lord. "You're lucky, boy. Lucky that you were born into that bloodline of yours."

Snarling, Blaise's temper flared. "And you're lucky that I will let you live after speaking to me in such a manner."

_Oh, the woes of man's egos_.

The silver eyed woman was more curious about how her father intended to storm _Man's_ _Walls_ this time. What new weapon did he discover? What cunning attack did he strategize?

"Oh, this is ridiculous! There's no way we can tackle such a feat! Look at all of our failures up until now." A lord with finely combed blonde hair slumped back, his long nails glowing strangely in the firelight.

The volcano erupted more gray ash, pouring over with white flakes of charred wood. Something in the silver eyed girl snapped. A dream of freedom—of a life beyond the limestone of imprisoning walls.

"Trial and error is a part of life, Lord Byron. Even war," said Aria. Standing, her light armor reflected their bright red faces. "We have failed in the past, but that should not make us cower away from our freedom! Think of your family!"

_Our_ _family_.

"We can't just give up and live on like this!" Swallowing the urge to look for her father's approval, she forced her eyes to brush over the table of sniveling cowards. "My father is offering us a way to bring that dream to life! But, if you're too scared to fight for it yourself, then no one will. Let us fight together to save our families and atone for our dead. We can beat them if we stand united—or do you prefer these damn walls?"

Panting, Aria rook her seat again as pointed glares met her gaze. She'd made a big show of smirking and looking confident, tossing around beautifully crafted words, but they were empty—devoid of any true sincerity. She was unsure that they could beat mankind at this point, but they had to try. Didn't they? Wasn't that her father's goal?

Abaddon remained silent. Her lip quivered and her stomach dropped—heart beating frantically as fear gripped her for what punishment awaited her for her outburst.

Swiveling back to the council, Abaddon peered through that omniscient gaze right at Aria. His nails clawed across the ring of Maria. "We will send you, my daughter. _You_ will destroy their Walls."

The council gaped. Lord Leonhart's blonde hair bobbed over his shoulders as he cried, "You can't be serious, your grace?"

"No disrespect to you, my liege," Lord Braun said. "But how in the gods names could this pampered, disobedient _girl_ possibly save our people? She's too young. And, she has a very evident problem with following orders. I mean, how capable can she really be?!"

Aria's delicate nostrils flared, and a flicker of teeth crested her lips. "I'm not a child! Dammit, I am twenty-two, and very capable with a blade—perhaps you would like a demonstration?"

Lord Braun met her challenge with a fierce growl, "Little girl, you don't even have the power to shift and you speak as if you were some great warrior! The only demonstration we'd get is you cowering in fear."

"Why don't you say that to the end of my sword? We'll see who the real coward is," Aria growled, but she couldn't hide the flush staining her cheeks as the table snickered at her expense.

Abaddon stiffened, embarrassment lining his shoulders. He'd always been ashamed of her lack of shifting abilities.

Lord Braun's outraged cry was interrupted by Lord Hoover's croak. "You have much to learn, you brazen bitch—about everything."

Aria's blood was roaring through her so loudly she couldn't breathe right, see right, think right, and for a moment she thought she might actually leap over the table and see exactly what it was the Hoover lord was made of.

_Rotting meat and piss,_ _I_ _bet_, she sneered internally.

The council waited for Abaddon's rebuttal, for him to defend his only child. But, he never did, just as Aria expected. His only reply: "I entrust this task to Aria Erikkson, Berthold Hoover, Annie Leonhart, and Reiner Braun. Dismissed."

Slack-jawed at his plan, the table went quiet. He was sending her? With three new recruits? This was…_a death sentence. He wants me to fail and finally snuff myself from existence._ Steeling her shuddering spine, she stole a glance at the king and his black eyes bore right into hers, validating the notion. '_**I**_ _**want**_ _**you**_ _**dead**_,' his gaze screamed bitterly. The princess gave him a slow, grim smile before standing.

Beholding the silver woman and her wry grin, the council watched her saunter toward the door, chin held high. She said with her usual air of assuredness, "Bye-bye, gentleman. Looks like this _woman_ needs to do some packing and strategizing." And just to add insult to injury. "Enjoy _your_ days behind these Walls, _I'll_ be back to tear them down soon."

~XXX~

_I need more time. I need more time. I need…_

Levi struggled through the carnage of the battlefield. Bodies strewn about like some makeshift maze, one that tripped him with its twisted arms and broken legs. The tangy smell of sulfur and death hung over everything: him, the grass, even the sky. It was palpable. The sickly sweet scent clung to the clouds, painting the horizon in hard lines of red and gray and black. Speckles of ash and blood carpeted the earth, sifting with the venomous wind.

_Dammit…why are we fighting without the leverage of trees? What's the use of our gear in a place like this?_

The open field was not to the Scouting Legions advantage. Not when they were fighting these monsters, these _Titans_. But they unknowingly tread into the territory of a swarm of the bastards. Fell right into their damn den on their way home. And, battered by the journey beyond the walls, his company were in no shape to fight. Nearly half perished during the excursion, and the other half suffered some form of injury.

Levi's right ankle screamed in protest, begging him to rest, to sit. But he persevered, pushing his limits because what little life remained belonged to _him_. It hung over his shoulders like an entire planet. The need to save, to salvage, to remain a pillar—that was his sole purpose for existing.

Another blood curdling cry tore across the blood soaked sky; another emerald cloak disappeared into the maw of a voracious Titan. Levi cursed every god he could recall while taking down a pair of monsters on his left flank. His sprain was slowing him down, rooting him to the ground like a flightless bird.

_What a wicked son-of-a-bitch our creator must be to eradicate man with this. Personally, I'd take a flood over this any day. Build myself a damn arc…enjoy a view of endless sea instead of these ugly bastards._

The Titans fell soundlessly, something that always appalled the black haired scout. Balancing himself on one of their steaming, deteriorating corpses, he grimaced, eying his dirty blades. "Disgusting."

Typically he'd have wiped them clean of the filth, but another abnormal Titan hurtled toward him, slamming over the corpses on the crimson field easily. Levi's body, racked with exhaustion and hunger, threatened to collapse. He couldn't hold out much longer. A string of curses filtered through his mind at his mortal body and its human needs.

_Humanity's strongest soldier, my ass. You're too weak… _

Levi glowered. His own mind was fighting against him now. _Great, just what I need_.

"I'm _really_ not in the mood to play with you, ugly."

The smiling monster staggered closer, its dead eyes zoning in on its prey. Levi's haggard reflection rippled before him and he stiffened. Hollow, gray eyes peered back at him through the gloss of its dead eyes. His cheekbones looked as if they were about to burst through the livid bruises of his flesh, all made more prominent by the paper-white tinge it seemed perpetually trapped in.

_Come on, Levi. Focus. Find your strength._

Fingers trigger-ready, he sprung forward, using the last bit of strength, speed, and stealth he could muster, carefully avoiding some moss covered stone as another presence careening by stopped him.

"Don't worry, I've got this one, Ackerman!" A familiar eager voice declared.

A flash of green and black sprinted past: Sarah, a new Scout. First mission. Her auburn ponytail bounced over her shoulders easily—carelessly as she bounded ahead of him. Wires ready to carry her up, up, _up_.

Levi had spent time with the feisty recruit while training for this excursion. Teammates appointed to serve beneath Captain Erwin, she was a promising, even _talented_ recruit, sure, but she was naïve and much, _much_ too brash. Levi watched in horror as she neared the beast; as she circled her death.

"Wait, Sarah. Don't!" Levi flew after her, willing his fatigued muscles to move. His feet barely skimmed the ground as he made a beeline for the beast, but she was already in its clutches, in its grinning mouth, that tongue wrapping around her tiny body, teeth grinding bone with a sickening **CRRRRrrrrrraaaaaaaccccckkkkkkk**.

Her scream reverberated through the marrow of his bones, sending a current of sparks straight through his spine and a burst of inhuman speed that catapulted him up, up, _up_ into the crimson sky. Sarah's blood spattered over him like paint—covering his face, his cloak, his pride, his _soul_.

_I need more time! I need more time! I need…_

His wires connected to the base of its spine, to the back of its skull. The gray eyed scout dug his way precisely through its nape, cutting away the pink flesh until it made its final descent to hell. While Levi had no faith in gods, he has conviction in hell, for he had seen the depths of it with his own eyes, had seen it staring back at him with a cool, stupid aloofness.

Rushing down the rapidly deteriorating corpse, he pulled the crippled doll from the giant's mouth. "Sarah…can you hear me? Sarah…open your eyes. Come on."

A reflection of the sky, her broken body was stained red and black and gray. A mess of shattered bones and blood. Death cradled her, coaxing her to the other side. Whatever that was. Those fading brown eyes opened blearily, searching for Levi's face, but couldn't quite find him. Even when she stared directly into his eyes she couldn't seem to find him.

"Levi?" He searched her brown eyes, smothering the urge to shake her, to say '_**I'm**_ _**right**_ _**here**_, _**look**_ _**at**_ _**me**_!'

"I…Oh, God…it hurts," she moaned. Her fingers clasped his shoulders, those brown eyes focusing, glistening with anguish and fear. The front of her pants seeped with warm liquid as she soiled herself. "Don't let me die! Please! My mom…she…she needs me. Oh, God…Levi, please, save me. Pray for me! _Mommy_!"

Levi held death and its victim in his arms, knowing that one day he too would soil himself with the fear of death's cloak. That he would one day scream for the one's he loved, the ones he lost, the ones he hated even when facing eternal darkness. But for now he and death both grasped at what little remained of Sarah amidst the raging battle.

Her shell. Her dreams. Her loves.

His voice was hoarse and raw as a piece of him died too. A piece of him vanishing with Sarah; with the death of another life he _should_ have saved. "I…don't…I don't know how to pray, Sarah."

Levi broke. Every fiber expended as he realized that no matter how strong he was this curse would continue to plague mankind. Composure crumbled into hot angry tears burning in rivulets down his cheeks and stinging his tongue. "I don't know how to…how…to…save...you."

Racks of sobs shook his shoulders, crushing his lungs, his ribs—his _heart_. All of it was a reminder of how helpless they were. Humans—what could they do against such ungodly giants?

The tiny, broken girl took one final petrified breath in his arms, and just like that her world stopped turning. Her light shuttering out. Sarah's tears and blood and brokenness seeped into what was left of Levi, marking his endless list with another name—a new life to amend, to avenge, to justify, to pay for.

_I needed more time. I needed more time. I needed…_

~XXX~

**That's all for chapter one. Please review, like, and follow! More Levi and other AoT characters to come! Thanks for reading.**


	2. Dreams and Illusions

**Warning: Mature language. **

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Attack on Titan or its characters. **

**Almost Human**

**Chapter Two: Dreams and Illusions**

"_**A single dream**_

_**Is more powerful**_

_**Than a thousand realities."**_

_**J.R.R Tolkien**_

The sun kissed the horizon in Aria's large bedroom window. Its golden rays illuminating the ivory cities gates and homes.

From her balcony, the silver princess had the best view of the entire kingdom. The white trees hugged the gardens rose bushes with low hanging arms. The Sacred Temple glittering with its crust of amethyst jewels, rows of eyes keeping watch over the gods. Beyond that were the shops and its avid customers, buying up what they could from apothecaries and tailors and jewelers before they boarded up for the evening. Flickering little dots of color among the white stones moving between each building like pinballs.

Further down, below the constant mist were looming trees, reaching up, up, _up_ toward the kingdom, beckoning her down to explore, to befriend branch and twig. Rolling hills lined their twisting silhouettes, but the grounds just below the mountain remained a barren waste of dirt and stone, baked by the sun, shivering in the shadow of the great mountain pass and its white city running along the spine. Much like Aria's heart—a desert wasteland.

Wall Iris. Home. Prison.

Aria knotted the rest of her braid with a frown, stepping back into her chambers, leaving behind the wheeling stars appearing amidst a still pink sky. She was not alone. Three shadowed figures hovered in the corner. A hand shot to the daggers hidden beneath her trousers.

"That won't be necessary, _princess_," one cloaked intruder drawled. Aria squinted into the dark hood. Silver eyes deciphered nothing in the endless shadow.

"I'll be making that decision myself. Show yourselves." A demand, not a question. Her hand's steadied on the hilt of each dagger.

"Sorry, we can't do that." Another of the three hissed.

Aria bared her teeth, using every ounce of her training to loosen her rigid spine.

_Stay loose. Stay focused. Breathe. _

A poisonously sweet smile flitted over her lips. "Well then, I suppose I'll have to rip those hoods from your heads myself. I apologize if my blades scalp you in the process—can't be helped."

"Hn," the third met her challenge quietly, his colossal size overshadowing the other wraith-like figures, as two of his own glinting knives slithered from the confines of his cloak.

"Sorry friend, but you're knives won't save you here," the first drawling voice said, stepping out of the colossal shadow. "Not with the big guy here anyway. And, let me tell you, he's the _least_ of your concern."

"Is that so?"

The sound of crackling knuckles pierced the uneasy silence. "I've always wanted to break that pretty face of yours." That same disembodied hiss slipped around Aria's neck. A viper strangling its prey. "I think I'll start with that mouth."

Silver eyes hardened. "I should have known it was you, _Eleanor_."

Smirking in satisfaction, she waited for the girl to unhood her face. Another angry, wounded hiss. The prey's cleverer than the snake assumed.

"So, why are you here? Who're your friends?" Aria asked.

"Quit playing around! You know why we're here, sugar-queen!" Screeching as always, there was the loud, violent Eleanor Braun. Her cropped fiery hair a tangle of flames surrounding the sharp angles of her freckled face. Her tall, sinewy body stepped forward, moving around the desk in the corner. Aria shifted her stance to a defensive posture, one blade raised above her chest, the other at her hip.

A soft, harsh laugh emitted from the smaller shadow in the corner. "I just told you those weren't necessary, princess. Don't you trust your oldest _friends_?"

"And, I just told you that I would decide if they were necessary, didn't I, _Blaise_?"

The young lord pushed back the hood of his cloak and nodded to the third member, signaling him to do the same.

"Aw, well, that hurts. Doesn't it, Harman?" Blaise offered a smarmy, wheedling smile that would have wooed any other woman. Not this one.

The third of the group, Harman Hoover, rolled his eyes at the young lord's antics, but humored a nod, grunting something with semblance to: "Sure." Sheathing his knives smoothly beneath his cloak, he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Ah, so it's you three. My father's fearsome triad." Loosening a breath, Aria kept up her guard. "How sweet of you to visit me so _unannounced_."

Daggers lowered to her side, but didn't return to their scabbards. "I was wondering when you would show up here, though I must say, you're stealthy garb's quite unnecessary. One might assume you were here with—." Choosing her words carefully, she uttered, "_ill_ _will_."

The trio remained fatally silent in their dark corner, and Aria felt herself go rigid.

_So, they are here to fight then? Well, we can't fight in here. I need to escape if I want to live. _

Aria noted their proximity to the bedroom door.

_Too far. I'll have to escape through the balcony door. Scale the wall and get them in the open…and then…_

Lord Bellrose, the unspoken leader of the crew, shredded the silence with his smooth voice. "Why would friends appear with ill will, _Aria_?"

"I don't know, Bellrose, why would _friends_ be sneaking around like robed assassins trying to kill me?"

Something akin to a storm of acid and ice flashed through her silvery eyes. Blaise scowled, but looked off toward the sheet of indigo settling over the sky beyond the window.

Aria's lip curled back from her teeth. "You cowards—how can you call yourselves friends?"

Her breath was brittle in her throat. Eleanor continued her journey forward, closing in on the princess. That freckled face a grimacing mask as she spat, "Can you really call yourself a princess when you killed the queen?"

Aria's eyes blazed. "How dare you…" Eleanor smirked wickedly.

"Enough." Harman's usually quiet voice suddenly erupted; a violent, harsh sound. His mild demeanor revisited immediately as he fixed those tender hazel eyes upon Aria. So soft, she strained to hear each syllable, the gentle giant whispered. "Princess Aria, we are here to beg you for a favor."

Blaise cringed, his usual haughty smirk shifting into a grim frown. Eleanor sniffed airily, muscular arms appearing over her chest. Aria suppressed the smirk whittling her mouth and made a small sweeping gesture toward the quiet brunette. "Go on."

"We ask that you speak with your father about his decision to send three novices with you." Harman's face was neutral, no insult or desperation inking his features. "My cousin may be bigger than I am, but he is still a cadet. He can't handle the weight of this task."

Berthold Hoover. Rooted as a tree to this city. No doubt he didn't have much say in his destiny. The decision to become a soldier was decided by a mind other than his Aria was sure. He was much too gentle for the woes of war. But, her opinion aside, it would seem her father saw some promise in the boy.

"You honestly think I want to do this mission with a bunch of kids?" Aria countered, shivering in the cool breeze of the window. "I'd rather do it alone, but—."

Eleanor interrupted the princess with a cackle. "You ignorant _bitch_! You really think you can do this by yourself? You? A spoiled princess who can't even shift! It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

"Honestly," Aria countered coolly. "So are ninety percent of the things _you_ say, but we still let that ugly face of yours out in broad daylight, don't we? No squashing your dreams, huh, _sugar_-_queen_?"

Blaise was there in an instant, hands clamped like vices over Eleanor's broad shoulders. Aria always knew just how to press the girl's buttons.

She screamed loudly, snapping her beak at Aria over his shoulder. Blaise narrowed his piercing blue gaze at the wild warrior. "That's enough, Elle. Quit playing into her stupid game. You know you're right. She's hopeless."

"But—."

Blaise quieted her with the intensity of his stare. Whimpering, the unruly red head unhitched herself from his grasp, spatting at the silver princess as she slumped toward the couch.

Blaise sighed wearily, turning toward Aria. She raised her daggers immediately, one pressing sharply into his neck. "Unless you want to meet your maker, Blaise, I suggest you step back."

His breath tickled her mouth. With a voice smoother than the surface of a gem, and glittering just the same, he murmured, "You don't have the guts."

Her blade inched further into the column of his throat, scoring it with angry red lines that threatened to spill his life force. "You know nothing, Blaise. You never did, especially about me."

"Oh, I know plenty," he purred, eyes scanning the lines of her body, recalling the feel, taste, and smell of her skin.

Aria swallowed the urge to kill him right there in her room. She decided to fantasize about the hundreds of ways she could instead.

_Eviscerate him…Slit his throat from ear to ear…_

"If you two are finished with your _lover's_ quarrel, we have real matters to attend to!" Eleanor cawed jealously.

Blaise shrugged, stepping away from the alluring princess. "Right, well you know our…plea…" And it pained him to say the word—physically so. The cords of his throat straining to swallow down lingering pride, hands fidgeting uncomfortably. "So, there you have it."

Aria blinked, speaking slowly, unsure she had any of this right. "Ok…so, let me get this straight—."

"We want you to ask your father to switch out the three newbies for _us_." Blaise interrupted impatiently. "I know that it's exceedingly hard for that pea sized brain of yours to keep up _Ary_, but do try."

Trembling with fury, her teeth bared. "Yeah, I worked that bit out myself, Bellrose. But here's the part I don't get: what's in it for _me_?"

Eleanor released the screech of a wounded bird. "God, you _are_ brazen aren't you? _Obviously_, you would have _our_ protection and cooperation, which is much more substantial than my _worthless—." _She put every bit of disdain she could into that insult. Aria felt a stab of pity echo through her for Reiner Braun. To have to deal with such an awful big sister your whole life…how awful. "—little brother and his band of misfits!"

Aria laughed darkly. "I have to say I'm quite impressed, Elle. You were able to figure that much out all by yourself." Emitting a warning growl, Eleanor glared, but Aria continued poking the caged bird. "Do you need to lie down? Are you well? I'm sure you just used up the last of your three surviving brain cells. Sounds like hard work to me. Here, you can even use my bed." She patted the welcoming mattress tauntingly.

Eleanor looked like she wanted nothing more than to rip Aria's throat out. With her teeth. The young lord laughed softly, pressing the back of his hand over his mouth. Harman caught the bristled bird before she took flight toward her prey, his face a blank, impassive mask.

"Alright, so I concede…your argument is valid." Blaise's smirk slid back in place. "But, I can't change his mind, not even if I wanted to. And…I don't."

"What?! You're insane!" Eleanor cried, stilling in Harman's arms. "We want you to be yourself—for once! And now, you wanna be miss. Goody-goody-kiss-ass to daddy?!"

"Aria, consider the implication of your father's wishes…" Harman spoke carefully.

"It's a death sentence." Blaise finished. His hands snaked toward the silver princess, but she sidestepped him wearily.

"I know."

~XXX~

"If I never saw a titan again, it would be too soon," Levi muttered, surveying what used to be a banquet hall.

A drafty, dingy, dank place. Exposed to the elements without any upkeep, the limestone festered with moss, roots, and fungus. The floor was flooded in the corners, bowed with years of disuse. Fissures tore jagged lines through a dilapidated roof, allowing a constant draft to seep through. The smell of carrion perfumed the air with a putrid, stomach-curdling stench.

_Good, so something died in here recently….Maybe it's Mike's cooking._

Levi cautiously eyed the tray of food set on the sparse tables. The other scouts settled into wobbly chairs, digging into the rancid meal. Mike gave an appreciative sniff of his _fine_ work, while the starved scouts held their noses, hoping that if they evaded the smell they might satisfy their growling stomachs.

"Oh, cheer up, sour-puss!" Hange clapped one hand over Levi's shoulder, smiling widely through the grime caked to her cheeks. "You know you love those smiling giants just as much as I do. Now let's eat! I'm starving!"

"Hange, no one loves those bastards _but_ you." She gave a loud, appreciative laugh—_maniacal is more like it_—nodding as she filled her plate with globs of mush. Levi's stomach clenched, gorge rising with the thought of that horrid gray goop hitting his innards. "No thanks, I think I'll pass on the mystery meat tonight." Stomach sighing in relief, it yawned open once again.

"Suit yourself." Hange scooped a mouthful onto her fork, shoveling it in like it was the single greatest dish she's ever tasted. "Mike vis is reary goord," she said around another bite, spitting little streams of mystery mush onto the lap of another brave soul—one turning a sickly shade of green as he suffered through several swallows of Mike's specialty.

"Thanks, Hange." Mike smiled grimly, scooping more food onto a plate for the commander and captain seated at the far end of the table.

Erwin grimaced as the sniffing blonde set a heaping mound in front of him. "Ah…yes…thank you, Mike."

Bracing his arms over the table, the blue eyed captain pushed the pile around his plate in slow circles. His mouth taut across his cheeks; face a solemn mask mirroring the commanders.

They conversed conspiratorially with one another about the disaster of this excursion. About the failure of their defenses. About the eradication of humanity.

_What delightful dinner conversation…_

The idle prattling of those remaining in the company of the scouts, of those lucky lives that had not been extinguished, of those ignoring the ghosts of their comrades hanging like shadows over their shoulders, surround their grave whispers.

Levi saw _her_—saw her mutilated corpse, her crushed legs, her matted, bloodied hair; her fading, dead eyes. He saw her floating in the brackish water of one corner, hanging onto the cracked stone with broken nails. Saw her lips pull back to reveal a red smile. Heard her rattling breath as she murmured, _"You'll join me soon."_

Levi's knees buckled. His stomach threatened to spill itself as it twisted and clenched and squeezed, but there was nothing—not even bile—to relinquish. He braced his hands on his thighs, squelching his eyes closed, but she was there too.

Hange's soft hands were at the back of his shoulders instantly, hoisting him up, leading him into the cool summer night. The stink of death dissipated and Levi coughed violently. Wheezing, he gulped in the fresh, undead air.

Hange cooed. "That's it, breathe, Levi. Just breathe."

Misty eyes froze into shards of ice, his spine straightening into a stiff, vertical line. "Don't touch me, Hange."

He cursed himself. Cursed his cold indifference toward his friend. Cursed his roaring anger, and the blockade that kept it concealed. That kept it inside.

"Ok." Hange pulled away, her warmth leaving him reluctantly. A frown sketched her mouth tiredly as she added, "You know, it's ok to be upset about today. About everything. It's normal, Levi—."

"I know," he snapped, harsher than he intended. But he couldn't withstand that damn pity in her eyes. Couldn't stand her kindness and goodness and friendship, so he shoved it away. Swiftly turning on his heel, stalking into the field, he said flatly, "I need to piss."

And just like that he was alone. Just like he'd always wanted. Just like he'd always deserved. Just like he always was.

Scaling the trunk of a towering oak, he settled comfortably into a high post, eyes and ears on high alert as always. Titan's weren't active at night, that much they knew, but other predators still lingered. Circling, waiting—yearning for a bite to eat.

Levi scanned the brush of forest, the canopy above, the thicket below, the harrowing ravine in the distance where a demonic darkness loomed. A red smile flashed in the moonlight, opening into a wide grin. Levi blinked. It was gone.

"I'm losing my fucking mind," he muttered, tipping his head back with a groan. "God, she's dead, Levi. Get a damn grip on yourself."

A soft rush of wind smoothed the pinched lines of his brow, relaxing him—slightly. A rustle below was all it took to send his neck snapping back up, those keen eyes peering into the darkness beneath his high perch. Clouds of smoke and ash shielded the moon—the light—so his gray eyes could decipher only the blurred lines of an animal. A bear? A—the sky opened to reveal white wine-colored moonlight—a human!

_A woman? _

Long, silky waves of silver stained hair rippled in the winds fingers like the waves of a great sea. Alabaster skin glowed in the moonlight, kissed by constellations just as her billowing dress seemed to be. The pale sleeves danced along the earthen carpet, her bare feet padding over soft red dirt. A barb of silver stars crowned her fair head.

An embodiment of winters chill. A beacon in the night. A silver lady.

Levi leaned further, unsure of his sanity any longer_. What? Now I'm seeing apparitions of girls I've never even met? _

Moving with all the predatory grace he possessed, he watched the woman closely. She paused, unceremoniously plunking down onto the long, soft grass. Then raising her silver head, Levi fought a hiss of surprise, of _**admiration**_.

_**She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. **_

Silvery white eyes flicked to the sky above the treetops, twin moons trapped within watery glass. Her pale, soft face was so otherworldly that he wondered silently if she was a goddess. Rose petal lips parted for a constellation of stars within, her voice strong and clear in the night air.

"Mother, I wish you were here. I desperately need your guidance." Her fingers dug into the earth, tearing at its soil as something broke within her. Levi seriously questioned his imagination and the green liquid he'd consumed with Mike earlier.

_What the hell was that shit laced with? Opiates? _

The silver lady closed those breathtaking eyes and held her breath, like it might keep her pain inside. Levi understood this control, this restraint. A bony hand clutched his own chest unconsciously. He shifted closer.

"A storm is coming…I am to bring it, but—mother, I don't know if it's right." Raw and desperate, she shrunk into her silvery body. "I don't know my path. I don't understand my destiny. I don't—I don't know if I am big enough to face it, to _live_ it."

Hollow, her voice was empty as she murmured. "I just wish he loved me, mother. I just wish someone did. That someone could hold my heart—and say, '_**I**_ _**believe**_ _**in**_ _**you**_.'"

And then, she placed a hand to her nape, caressing the flesh so gently, so tenderly, as she opened her mouth to sing. Her voice was a raw, trembling sound in the air, dancing through summer leaves. A lovely, ancient song of a language that was pleasantly strange in Levi's ears filled the air. She beat her chest in time with each foreign beat of music. A slow, sad smile crossing her mouth as the wind picked up and sent her silver waves flapping around her.

An owl hooted and fluttered its wings hurriedly as Levi disturbed its perch with his movement. The girl stood swiftly, the glinting of blades flashing dangerously in the darkness. Her face was stone, stance lethal and so very changed from the softness before. Levi sunk into the shadow of leaves, stilling all movement, holding his breath, but sliding his hands to the hilts of his own swords.

_So, she's a warrior…an imaginary warrior. Great. This is great, Levi. Usually when men fantasize about women they don't give them knives…_

She floated away, above the fallen leaves and sprouted petals. Silver hair trailed behind her like a cloak of moonlight. Levi stuffed down the desire to call out to her, to stop her, to speak to her. He never enjoyed talking anyway and she didn't seem in the mood to do much of it herself.

Long, sharp steel stayed close to her sides, loose enough in her grasp that she appeared ready for any form of attack. It wasn't just her lethal grace or ultra-quick movements that off-put Levi.

It was her grip. Backward—just like his.

He smirked. _Warrior, indeed._

Sleeping in the arms of nature, dreaming of silver ladies and moonlight confessions and fierce feminine warriors, Levi felt rested for once. He attributed it to Mike's tonic—and vowed never again to drink with the man. Still, there was an ease that the vision seemed to elicit, a patching of his deteriorating heart—temporarily, anyway. They still had to make it home, after all.

_There is still plenty of time to mar it once again_. He scowled moodily.

"Sleep alright?" Hange was hesitant, unsure of the mood hidden beneath his impassive mask.

He shrugged, cracking his neck as he stepped into a stirrup of his horse. "I've slept worse."

Grinning, the goggled brunette slid into her saddle, stuffing a bag into one saddlebag. "Well, you slept better than Johnathon did then." She pointed to a scout with stark black hair that accentuated purplish-gray bags collecting beneath his onyx eyes. "Says he saw a ghost or something last night. Gave everyone in the mess hall a big scare. Isn't that right, Captain?"

Shooting Erwin a cheeky grin, the fair-haired captain narrowed his eyes, ignoring her playful taunt. Hange pouted, but Levi was rigid.

_A ghost…could it be?_

The eccentric girl prattled on as they set off in the direction of the wall. "—apparently she was made of silver. _'A piece of the moon.'_ Poor Johnathon must be suffering some sort of trauma over this excursion. I suppose we all are—."

Levi stopped listening, his stormy eyes searching the trees for the silver dress, eyes, hair. For the woman he knew was real. He saw Johnathon doing the same, desperately scouring tree after tree for her face. But she was gone—like smoke and ash.

Levi did not find her.

~XXX~

**Phew, chapter two's finally done! I sincerely apologize for the uber long chapters, but I'm really trying to get to the "meat" of the story! Hope it wasn't too boring for ya'll. Please rate, review, follow, and like! Thanks for reading. **


	3. A Promise

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Attack on Titan, or its characters.**

**Almost Human**

**Chapter 3: A Promise**

"_The saddest part of betrayal is that it never comes from our enemies."_

_-Unknown_

_Dammit…_

Aria knew she'd been spotted. Twice. By _human_ eyes no less.

Wincing, she deftly scaled the parapet, swinging herself easily onto the ramparts onto the rooftop. Her bare feet caught in the hem of her gossamer gown—her mother's gown. The only piece she had left of her. Shoving at the gnarled fingers that loomed up from the abyss inside her, she quieted the murmurs bubbling within her mind.

_Not now, Aria. Now is not the time to dwell in the past. _

Hoisting the shimmering skirt to her hips, she felt a warm breeze wrap around her, steadying her. That black veil of rage and hatred and despair inched away. Twisted, hungry fingers fading as reality came crawling back toward her with the hushed voices of royal sentries.

Letting out quiet strings of curses, she searched desperately for a place to hide. The guard was aware of her disappearance. They broke through her barrier of chests and dressers—or perhaps they were alerted by outside sources? That curled her lip, a soft snarl tearing from her mouth.

_So, the fearsome triad's tracing my movements? How long do I have before they track me here…?_

A hand clamped over her mouth. Aria twisted, years of practice telling her body what to do, to slice at the assailant's exposed side, to sink one gleaming blade in its ribs, while the other slashed for its throat. It was easier than breathing.

But a white cloth tinged with something foul buckled her knees. Her head spun, world teetering as the scent of something truly putrid attacked her nostrils, her throat, her eyes. She fell limp in the growing fog. Darkness swallowed her, embracing—comforting the princess.

Until she saw them. No—she heard them. She heard their shrieks, their wails of desperation. The final Jaws of Life clamping over them, erasing their entire existence from this world—like they never really existed at all—leaving Aria with only broken heartbeats and half remembered faces.

First, her mother. Then, her aunt; her cousin; her uncle; her grandmother. The list went on and on and on. Death's avarice was insatiable, not even an entire family swiped from the mist of the White Mountain could slake his thirst. His blackness shrouded every corner, every stone, and every arcing, dead branch in her city.

_When will it be enough? When will Death leave us be? _

She'd run from their faces for years. Her family, her friends, her comrades—all of them ash upon the wind; tangled in reaching oak roots and somber storm clouds. All dead. All gone.

She'd suffered in silence without complaint, without tears. But now—now she opened her mouth and screamed.

~XXX~

_Memories. So many memories…_

Aria's torment came to her in gift wrap. Beginning with her happiest, bloodless moments, traded for the gruesome gore of the many massacres she'd witnessed in her short life. The one's she'd forgotten, shoved precariously inside her mind—her soul. Deaths she'd never mourned with the rituals of her people, with the dirges of the ancient tongue of her kin.

They all came springing up from that pit inside her; the rift growing wider and wider, threatening to swallow what little was left of Aria.

Faces, so many faces. All of them screaming, and sucking the breath from her lungs; feeding on her pain, her misery. Coward, they cried. Pathetic, they spat.

And then, her mother's looming silver face drifted forward. A face so familiar to Aria, so uncannily like her own, that it was nearly comforting—until she snarled.

"You're worthless. You should have died in my stead."

Reality came snapping back like a rubber band stretching to its fullest capacity and slapping her skin. Aria panted, each struggling breath like swallowing shards of glass. She surfaced that miserable blackness with only her name clinging to her tongue.

_I am Aria Errikson…I am Aria Erikkson…I am…_

Shivering, she moved to wrap her arms around her knees, only to find her wrists shackled with irons. Chains rattled loudly, scraping harshly against the cold, ruin of dark stone, catching in deep gouges left from the last unfortunate soul to occupy the grotto. Shadows that stretched for eons swelled around her, hiding the gods only knew what. The only light in the dank cell was a flickering sconce positioned just outside the bars, and it did little to help visibility.

Still, it was enough to know where she was: the prisons below the white palace—really, the stench gave it away on its own.

Coughs, gags, and the last intake of breath whispered through the iron bars of her cell. She was in the catacombs deep within the belly of the mountain. A frozen blackness carved by the hands of the first of her kin—the first _Legends_.

The ceilings were enough to suggest that they had stored rogue monsters here—endless and domed above to accommodate the larger, more physically gifted of her brethren.

Aria had been down here many times in her short life. It was her personal chamber for a period of time—a time of brutality, obedience, and discipline.

A time of unbridled physical pain.

Peering through that malicious blackness, Aria's jaw tightened as the sound of footsteps neared her cell. Her bare breasts nipped by the chill of air as several unseen presences pressed in on her with ragged breaths and the foul smell of death clinging to them.

She jerked against her shackles, trying desperately to move, but she was still feeling the remnants of that foul smelling liquid course through her.

A low swear tumbled from her mouth. "_Shit_…"

"Now, now," a voice tutted. "That is no way for a lady to talk—least of all a _princess_."

"Go to hell," she spat, still searching for the faces; for the monsters.

She could feel the shadow to her left closing in slowly, another on her right near the iron grate, and a third in front of her lounging against the iron bars of the door.

"Temper, temper." The one to her left inched forward. The sound of leather and steel slid against dark stone. Aria shivered, flesh rising unpleasantly. "You really don't have any manners do you, _princess_?"

"Don't go getting _high-and-mighty_ on me, swine. Is this really any way to treat your future _queen_?"

"Oh, but you've been such a bad girl lately, haven't you? Disobeying _daddy_. Sneaking out of the castle. Talking back to him in the meeting. He was very upset, _princess_—told us to let the message really _sink_ in." Aria could hear the smirk of satisfaction in its cruel, harsh voice.

"I see," she said. Not giving an inch to doubt—to fear.

"So, my father ordered this?" There was no shock in her flat voice; only acceptance.

"Oh, yes." A purr from the one in front of her. "His majesty said that we were to make you our play thing for the next three days." Steel sung over rusted iron.

Aria suffocated the tears, the pleas, the anger, and braved the oncoming storm with a stoic mask—even if they couldn't see it. She steeled herself, ready for what was inevitable. Waiting with the face she'd forged through years of torture at the hands of a sadistic king—her _**father**_.

"Very well then. Let's play gentlemen." Her voice never wavered, never wobbled. She was an immovable mountain grasping at quickly disintegrating sunshine.

"We're going to make this hell for you."

Another sneered, "I can't wait to hear that pretty voice of yours scream."

"Good luck with that." Silver eyes shone in the blackness—too bright to be obliterated by the grotto's shadows.

"Save it, you worthless woman." She'd finally gotten to them. _Good_.

"Your father told us, you know," the one near the cell door murmured—softly, dangerously. "About how it was your fault that they all died that day—your family. That you watched like a pathetic coward as your family was hacked to pieces by those wretched humans."

And just like that, Aria's victory hollowed—resolve giving way to regret; bravery giving way to trembling lips, to streams of tears meeting in a great pool beneath her chin. Her throat was raw with silent sobs. Heart fractured beneath the impossible burden of grief.

The crown that she'd been so afraid of, that she'd resented, toppled to the stone, glittering on its slate. She'd never deserved it.

A waste of space and breath on earth; a filthy stain on the world. It would have been better if she had died with her family, had been slaughtered and dumped in their mass grave, twisted in their butchered limbs.

The abyss threatened to engulf her again when the bite of terror and agony ripped through her as a whip cracked and—

She bit back a scream as leather tipped steel cleaved her skin like lighting against the sky, tearing open the scarred canvas of her back. Aria barely had time to take in another breath before the whip cracked again and she jerked forward. Warm blood already streamed down her bare back when it struck again.

_Don't_ _scream_. _Don't you dare scream_. _If you scream then you really do deserve to die._

Laughs resonated in her cell, but the other prisoners had gone deathly still, inching into their dark corners, praying to the gods that those monsters kept far from their flesh. The whip cracked over Aria's ruined, bloody skin again and again, the iron tip mercilessly shredding her scars—both physical and mental, until Aria was numb to the pain.

Wisps of smoke meandered to the forefront of her consciousness, morphing into the features of those lost in dirt, dust, and blood. Ghosts of Aria's past slithering, slinking and scraping up until they couldn't be ignored.

Shells of their former selves. Morbid, mutated memories of the family Aria once knew, reaching through cobwebs and pain and carefully placed chains to touch each open scar.

_This_, Aria thought. _I deserve this agony for them. For all of them._

"Again," she said, barely more than a rasp, "Again."

A growl rippled from the darkness as leather and steel smacked her skin harder and harder, leaving behind the distinct smell of iron, copper, and promises.

_So many left to atone for…to apologize to…to promise…._

And with each new scar came the resolve, the oath of a princess to her dead kin and imprisoned kingdom: _I will free you—all of you._

And that whip snapped over her again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

~XXX~

"Aren't you at least a little curious about our new batch of Scouts?" Hange adjusted her ponytail, tying it off tighter with a leather cord.

Levi pulled another knife from his pile of weaponry on the table, like the previous blade it was immaculate. A fact Hange didn't dare mention. Not after the last time…

"_I could always dirty them on you." _

Pulling steel through cloth, he inspected its shine meticulously before flickering his gaze over Hange, who tried not to cringe at the thought of him coming at her with one of those blades. "Why would I be curious? Have I given you the sudden impression that I have abandoned my cynical outlook and donned your spirit for humanity?"

Steely eyes narrowed dangerously with each lash of his abrasive, caustic tongue. "Those little shits mean nothing more to me than the ones we wipe Titan asses with now."

The candle light quivered upon the table they perched themselves around as Hange's hope to steer the wry captain in route of Erwin's goals waned_. How the hell am I supposed to persuade him to choose the team Erwin wants without him knowing we picked for him?_ Being her usual cheery self certainly wasn't helping.

_Maybe fighting fire with fire, then?_

"You're a captain now, you know?" Hange's own temper flared, hot and sparking like the forging of a new blade.

_That's is, Hange. Stoop to his level. Show him your inner fire…_

Levi was too busy polishing more of his steel to notice the shift in the brunette scout, or perhaps it was just that he didn't really care. "Are we stating the obvious now? Because if we are there are far worse things you could be insulting me with."

"No," she said, calming the tremor in her voice as she pried her gritting teeth apart dramatically. "What I mean is, you're a captain now, and that means you should be choosing a team. The commander has given you're team a very special responsibility and that—."

"Means that I should be studying their qualifications. Already done, Hange."

Hange blinked. "You—you have already chosen?"

A curt nod. "Yes. This surprises you?"

"Well—it's not that exactly," the brunette started, backpedaling furiously. "It's just—."

"What?"

"I just thought you might want to discuss your choices, you know, get a second opinion?"

"Why would I want that? Do I strike you as the type to care for those, Hange?" Gray eyes leveled the panicking brunette.

_Shit, I blew it… _

"Not at all," she breathed, adjusting her goggles with one idle hand. Her mind worked quickly to find a solution—a loophole in the complicated system that was Levi Ackerman. Needless to say, she found none. "So—erm—who did you decide on?"

Erwin's blonde head appeared suddenly, forming in the candlelight as if by magic, his keen blue eyes settling over the two officers. "They've just arrived. Come."

And just like that the captain faded into the blackened halls, a faint glow of daylight peering in as he stepped out into the blinking sunlight. The sound of curious voices swelled in the hallways, seasoned scouts making their way onto the verdant lawn where orders were being bellowed in tight, angry voices.

"Well," Levi pushed away from the table, placing two deadly looking knives in his belt loop, "Looks like you're about to meet my new team."

"Great."

_Please, let him have chosen wisely…_

XXX

"Welcome, recruits, to the Scouting Regiment," Commander Keith Shadis said, his boots clomping over dried, dead earth.

Silence met his greeting. Trained quietness; calculating, soldierly silence. He continued without hesitation, "You have all chosen an honorable pathway."

Uneasy, apprehensive, stupid smiles cross several rookies' faces. The seasoned regiment bristled; the commander barked a harsh, raw laugh. "That's a fool's mindset! You have chosen a deadly, reckless, imprudent, irrational course—."

Faltering grins dissipated completely, snuffed out like a candle flame. The commander's mouth slashed into something akin to a smile. "But, you—men and women—have chosen the most rewarding road. We salute you."

Three hundred fists settled over emerald cloaks, emblem covered, hearts shielded. Tension snapped, sighs of relief whispering from tight lips as their dreams, ambitions, and hopes were left intact. The sun beamed hotly on their backs, rising above desperate clouds.

"Now," the commander said, a solemn note reentering the timbre of his voice, "Let us divide you into your squads."

The captains marched forward, a unit moving lethally toward the shaken recruits. "First, Captain Erwin's squad."

A silver haired boy shifted, his eyes looking, searching—_**for**_ _**what**_? His opaque eyes stilled, focusing on the lithe, agile—_dangerous_—captain: Levi Ackerman. A small, conspiratorial smile flitted over cupid bow lips.

_Found you…_

"Captain Levi's squad is next. Move forward when I call out your name." The commander bellowed five names.

"Eld Jinn. Gunther Schultz. Oulo Bozado. Petra Ral. Amos Erikkson. Step forward. Now."

Enquiring glances flickered over the five fresh faced cadets. A blonde boy trying his damndest to look older by growing a barely-there soul patch. Another with dark hair and a serious, straight mouth, his shoulders slumped from carrying the weight of someone else's world far too long. The third, a boy with curling, primped locks, his face a mask of unadulterated smugness. A girl with doe eyes and hair the shade of October's pumpkins. And, finally, a young boy with glass eyes and silver hair.

"Congratulations, you will all be under the command of our newest captain, Levi Ackerman."

Commander Shadis couldn't disguise the irony in his voice as he handed the five souls to the cynical captain. The newly appointed captain measured them, taking in every minute detail of each one. Slate-gray eyes sliding over each face; each set of determined eyes.

The name calling continued. Teammates bonded, captains welcomed their subordinates with grave smiles—but still smiles, nonetheless. However, Levi merely nodded tersely to his own squad, and vanished back into the barracks.

"Friendly fellow, isn't he?" Oulo commented, breaking the stunned silence.

Petra blinked at the plot of dirt the captain had just fled, waiting for him to return and politely apologize. Eld smiled tightly; Gunther remained impassive.

"It's not really his job to hold our hand and be our friend. That was about what I expected from our new captain, honestly," Amos said, crossing his arms over his small, pubescent chest.

The four recruits craned their necks around, staring at the boy. The young genius. They feared, hated, and envied him. He disdained them equally.

He smiled venomously. "Did you actually expect him to smile and boast about your many achievements? And what were those exactly?"

"Hn," Oulo offered, pride offended, he stepped away from the silver haired nuisance. The rest followed suit, choosing what they understood.

Amos shrugged, taking in a long breath of pine, soil, and freshly dredged hope. His arms stretched overhead, reaching toward the electric blue sky before settling lazily behind his head.

_This mission's going to be a piece of cake…I will free you. All of you. _

Hand over heart, Aria's far off gaze hardened. She would be the princess her people needed her to be, even if she had to take down man's walls with her bare hands—she'd bloody them until they were unrecognizable nubs.

_I promise. _

XXX

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! **


	4. RECTIFY (Part One)

**Disclaimer: I do not own AoT or its characters.**

**Almost Human**

**Chapter Four: R.E.C.T.I.F.Y. (Part One)**

"**Rectify**

_**Verb**_**. **

**Put (something) right; correct."**

"But sir, we've already completed our training in the cadet corp. I fail to see how—."

Eyes flashed with annoyance; Levi cut off his subordinate with vitriolic dislike. "And, I fail to see why this is even up for discussion, _kid_."

Oluo bristled at the captain's second favorite nickname—the first being _shithead_. "Your captain commands and you obey, that's how this works. Trust me you could use the training anyway—_shithead_."

Teeth scraped teeth, forming one singular, brutal line. "Yes, sir."

Oluo fell in line with the rest of his cadre. A scowl cruelly etched lines into his young face as he crossed his arms like a petulant child.

The blinking sun was just beginning its ascent through the sky when the rather eccentric—if not deranged—captain came looming over each of them in their sleep, shrouding their blanketed forms until at last they awoke with a start…or worse. Oluo wet himself; a fact known only by him, the captain, the Holy Spirit, and Amos. Amos could not suppress his smirk; Levi couldn't suppress his disgust.

_What have I gotten myself into? _

Levi's disdain for his subordinates became a palpable thing, coexisting in the thicket of oak and blackberry bushes. Storm-gray eyes vivid in the dappled sunlight streaming through the canopy as he stared down the silent band of scouts. "This training is simple, really. All you have to do is—." He paused, relinquishing the last note of a tragically beautiful sonata. "—survive."

Somewhere in the distance a flutter of wings resounded. Petra's small, unsure voice trembled from her mouth into the space between her and the stern captain. "Umm…I still don't quite understand what our training is, sir."

Silence. He was quiet for so long that Petra, as well as the other scouts, wondered if he hadn't heard her. But, then he opened that grim mouth and they decided they'd preferred his mysterious silence.

"All of you rookies are the same, you know?" Lounging against the angry bark of a gnarled, ancient tree, he propped one boot behind him to perch upon.

"Always demanding to be spoon-fed everything," he sneered.

Petra's mouth shut firmly, refusing to open again, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink. Nearly kissing the ground in respect—or fear—of her captain, she bowed her head sheepishly. The four boys continued standing tall beside a flock of trees, waiting to be spoon-fed _their_ helping of information—but none came.

Amos took his turn standing on the gallows. "Oh, let's cut the pissing contest short today, Cap. Why don't you try _communicating_ today? Who knows, you might just like it."

It was nearly comical, the reactions of the four remaining rookies: eyes wide and dry with astonishment; mouths hanging slack-jaw. However, Levi—if there was any reaction to the brashness of the youngest member—remained utterly impassive, as if the boy just recited the scout regiment's pledge of honor.

"Thank you for that, _smart_ _ass_," Levi deadpanned. "Now to _communicate_—." He frowned as the word climbed the column of his throat and tumbled from his mouth. The demand for such mundane notions were foreign to the wry captain. However, he agreed that the band of misfits needed some _enlightening_ before the tests began—even if the information remained slightly cryptic. "Your training will be a series of tests."

Everyone was alert now. Hanging on each syllable; each movement of those thin, chapped lips. _**Finally**_, something they could understand—something achievable. Their cadet training had been chalk full of testing, and being the top five of their class they were in the ninety-five percentile strategically, intellectually, _and_ physically. Yes, tests were what they excelled at—_bring it on._

Levi unhitched himself from his post, examining broken nails with piqued interest_. I'll need to trim these tonight…_

"These tests, or as they've been _fondly_ referred to—"the seven circles of hell"—are all based on traits and assets I demand from my squad."

Stark faced and missing no beats as the squad lit up with many constellations of hope, he added, "They're not a thing like those bullshit exams you've experienced in the past—they will be unorthodox, but then, that is the world we live in, isn't it?"

Something akin to a grin slashed his mouth, but dissipated quickly, folding back into the thin line it seemed permanently trapped in. The stars in their eyes burned out, plummeting back to a dreary reality.

_How are we going to survive this psycho's training when we don't even know what it really is? _

Silence. Loud, unsettling silence. One punctuated by nothing but the occasional breath of the five fresh faced scouts. Silence that stretched on and on, unbroken by the delicate song of wind, and the rustle of hooves, paw, and wings met them. Deafening and familiar to Levi's ears—to his soul.

Gray light peeked in through the canopy shadowing those wretched expressions. But, they hadn't lost anything—not yet. Not like the seasoned soldiers. Levi's resentment scorched his throat, flickering a muscle in his jaw, coming to finally, _finally_ settle in the roiling pit of his stomach.

_What do they know of misery? All of these pampered brats…they know nothing—__**yet**__._

"So," Levi said, eyes veiled. "Let's get started."

XXX

"You can't be serious," Amos whined, hefting Oluo's limp body over one tiny shoulder.

Levi pressed one leather tipped toe into the loamy forest floor, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "Have you known me to be anything else, pipsqueak?"

"He's got a point, kid," Eld muttered, easily hoisting both Gunther and Petra over his back. Their heads dangled above a thicket of thorns and blood colored berries.

"Alright, fine," Amos huffed. "You're incapable of fun. But, what could something like _this_ really prove? It's not as if we'll ever be _running_ from Titans. Isn't that the point of our gear?"

Levi gave the boy a withering look. "You really are a dense child, you know that?"

Flushing an angry shade of red, the boy muttered incoherently. Oluo squirmed in his arms, threatening the boy with an angry shake of his fist. "I swear to every God if you drop me I will—."

Cut short by Levi's gunshot, Oluo bit his tongue. Hard. Amos giggled and nearly dropped the young man.

A puff of green smoke circled the air as the pellet released from the barrel. Eld raced down the dirt path ahead of Amos by several strides. The silver haired scout hauled Oulo's tear stained shirt front back over his shoulder, bounding after Eld's blunted blonde ponytail. _**Warriors wolf tail**_—he amended with a smirk, hearing Eld's always-defensive mutter over the proper terminology for his feminine hairstyle.

"C'mon we're losing, _pipsqueak_!"

Amos considered killing him right there. _No, too many witnesses…and there's him, too. _Squinting at the dark haired captain, he kicked his feet up a little more._ Dealing with Levi could be tricky. _Settling for a scorch-worthy scowl instead, the prodigy hissed, "Well, maybe if you'd lose some weight, Bozado, we wouldn't be!"

"Brat!"

"Ass-clown."

"Dick weed!"

"Coc—."

"Congratulations gentlemen. You lose." Levi looked them over with a mixture of disappointment and exasperation. Oluo and Amos initiated another round of glaring. The other three high-fived happily.

But, the testing was far from over. Celebration was in short supply.

"For your failure, you will both run the length of the barrack."

"Ok," Amos hedged cautiously. "How many times?"

Levi settled for a steely glare. And so they ran until their legs gave out, collapsing upon the soft red dirt.

"I really hate him." Amos buried his chin in the crook of his arm.

"I think its mutual, kid." Oulo panted, but smiled helping the boy to his feet.

Amos eyed their clasped hands mistrustfully. "Don't go getting any ideas about friendship or alliances, Bozado."

"I wouldn't dream of it, kid. I wouldn't dream of it."

They walked a little closer on their path to the barracks where the remainder of their crew awaited them.

XXX

The mess hall teemed with bodies—sweaty, unkempt, unclean flesh. Amos held his nose impolitely, unselfconscious about offending any of his new _comrades_. The stench that perfumed the space was strong enough to seep through his fingertips, through his nostrils, even his eyes—which immediately watered.

_Disgusting…_

"Mmm, I'm starving! Are we really going to eat right now?" Gunther licked his lips, eying platters of crumbs and mold.

"Is this our reward for winning the last challenge?" Eld scratched his chin scruff, kicking his boots against the legs of the table accidentally.

Water splashed a fuming Oluo—the sorest loser who ever was. "Watch it," he barked, features going lupine.

"Sorry," Eld muttered halfheartedly. Oluo gave an indignant sniff, and turned cheek; Eld smirked beneath one hand. Petra and Amos, meanwhile, rolled their eyes—a common feminine trait—one that Amos desperately tried to cover with the scratching of his own nonexistent peach fuzz on his chin.

Settling into a chair, Levi lifted a steaming mug to his lips. Amos noted the grin curving around the rim as he sipped. _What is he up to now? _

"Indeed," Levi said after a long swallow. "You will be eating tonight."

The cryptic edge in his voice was enough to steer Gunther's hungry hand back to his lap. Eld eyed the onyx haired captain skeptically, asking, "So, what's the catch here?"

"Nothing," he replied coolly. "It's simply an eating contest."

_What the bloody hell does this have to do with special operation training?! Unorthodox my ass, he's just toying with us…_

Amos slammed his fists down upon the table, pointing accusatorily at the wicked captain with one tiny finger. "Not before you explain what the hell this tells you about us as soldiers! Why are you playing this stupid game with us, huh?!"

Another sip of fragrant tea slid past his tongue; those cobalt eyes melting away bits of the prodigy's façade, peeking into the bits of exposed soul. "Just your appetite. Now—eat."

Forks scraped dingy metal plates that hadn't had a proper wash in the-gods-knew-when. Mike was instructed to continue to scoop globs of whatever-the-hell he'd cooked up that night in the poor excuse they had for a kitchen. It wobbled sickeningly on the dirty platters, like chunks of vomit.

_It smells like puke, too… _

Amos glared hotly across the barrier of the table. Levi met him with his usual impassive mask. The sloshing of the vomit-esque-globs releasing onto their plates with an audible '_**plop'**_ was the only sound disrupting their staring contest.

"Go on. Dig in boys."

Petra's eyes slid over his lips, waiting for him to amend himself. He didn't.

Two and a half hours later Gunther and Oluo called a tie, both clutching their guts, which were hanging painfully around their trousers. Petra had disappeared to purge—unable to hold down the foreign feeling of food in her teensy tummy. Eld was the color of seafoam caressing the sand—or the crust around Mike's toast to be exact. And, Amos continues to pout in his corner, holding his nostrils delicately.

Levi stood, brushing himself of any crumbs, and declared, "Moving on. Follow me."

But he waited for no one as he made his way to his private barracks.

XXX

"Let me get this straight," Amos said sharply. "You want _us_ to clean _that_?"

The office was immaculate. Not a speck of dirt, dust, or crumbs anywhere. Gunther handed the boy a ratty broom wordlessly.

"What's wrong, princess? Afraid you'll chip a nail?" Levi's voice dripped sarcasm, dark eyes glittering in the faint glow of the window.

_How_ _did_ _he—?!_

Amos stammered stupidly. "Erm—I—uh…"

"It was a joke, kid," Eld said, one eyebrow quirked speculatively.

_Right…duh_.

"I knew that—heh. Good one, captain."

Plopping onto a fraying couch unceremoniously, Levi plucked a bookmarked tome from a cushion. Amos eyed the book enviously, recalling fondly his own library back home. The ones filled with his dearest friends.

_I must send word soon…_

"I don't even see any dirt, sir," Oluo said, wiping one calloused set of fingers across a dustless table.

Petra nodded, pinching her fingers delicately as she examined the clean cloth in her hands—no dirt to be seen.

"Keep looking. It's there." Levi assured the glorified cleaning crew.

A huff of displeasure raced from Amos's downturned mouth. He hurriedly wiped down each window pane, smudging fingerprints terribly in large circles, observing the quiet landscape of rolling hills; the huddling cluster of pine trees; the untamed blue of the sky that slowly gave way to hues of violet as the sun winked playfully in the horizon.

_Sunset. I have to send a raven—__**soon**__. _

Gunther clicked his tongue behind him, prodding him to the side. "He's not going to accept your handiwork, kid. Haven't you ever cleaned a window before?"

In truth? _No_. "Sure. It's not algebra. I think I can handle it, Shultz."

"Whatever you say." The brunette shrugged, hopping over a puddle of brackish water Eld was mopping up furiously.

Continuing to haphazardly swipe the grimy cloth over the glass, Amos watched the other scouts honing pertinent skills—you know, the kind that keep soldiers from dying. Maneuvering through the dense forest, they whirled around each other in memorized dances using wires. It was beautiful, but it wasn't enough to save them, Aria's voice whispered smugly.

"Brooms down," Levi called, rising from the couch in one fluid motion.

He inspected each section. The floors received an unsatisfied purse of his lips; Eld fidgeted. Shelves were given a set of narrowed brows; Petra stiffened. The tables received a shallow intake of breath; Oluo smirked. Levi shook his head to murder the young man's hopes—they were massacred and Oluo was left with nothing but a frown and slumped shoulders. Couches and chairs were inspected with little interest, and Gunther sighed.

But, it was the windows that elicited a real response—a _verbal_ response. "Did you wipe your ass on the towel and just smear it across the window, kid?"

Their eyes locked. Amos could see him. Could see inside Levi's soul—what was left of it anyway. Could see the black and red and gray swirling in his eyes. See the horrors of a lifetime of savagery and butchery and ruthlessness. Could see clearly what it did to a human—no, to a _**person**_. Could see his own reflection staring back from black pools of water, struggling to climb from the abyss.

But, this child would never have those same eyes. _If he sees me, I'm done. _

Wheeling his eyes toward his boots, he schooled his features into a twisted expression of childish anger. "This whole thing's just a waste of time anyway. Who cares about your office? You never use it anyway."

There was suspicion brimming in those storm-cloud eyes, hanging over his tongue as he said, "Looks like we'll be here a while then, brat. You're going to clean these windows until _I_ no longer find them _lamentable_ to look at."

Hours passed this way. Amos scrubbed until his fingers were raw and bleeding. The others watched with strained faces, lips pulling away from their teeth. This cruelty was no longer entertaining. They wanted to move on, but Levi was relentless in his search for prints and dust. There always seemed to be something lingering on the glass—stuck to his finger as he pulled it away to examine.

"Again."

A whip cracked over her back, ripping open fresh scabs. _No, not now…_ Memories festered just below her brow, making her shudder.

"Again."

The steel tip clung to wet flesh. Aria slumped with the sudden pain shooting down her spin like a live current.

"Again."

The pain was real, but she knew the whip was not. Still, agony tore through the marred flesh of her back, and she swore she could feel blood pooling beneath her shirt.

"Again."

Gray eyes captured silver in an intense battle to dominate. _I will break you,_ his scowl screamed. _Like hell,_ Amos's eyes howled.

XXX

"Hey," Petra's small voice crawled around Amos's shoulders. "Are you ok, Amos?"

They were dismissed the captain said distantly. He was evaporating in a cloud of emerald cloaks. The other boys saluted and surrounded Amos's crumpled form.

"I don't get what the big deal is. Why can't you just obey orders, kid? It was just a little cleaning," Oluo said, an edge of worry in his usual haughty voice.

The murmur of voices pressed in from all sides as nightfall commenced and patrol squads dispensed for their nightly search of Titan hideouts. Amos struggled to stand, rustling one set of delicate fingers through his cropped hair. The rest of his team observed the boy, bewildered by his apparent exhaustion.

"I don't like being bossed around by that asshole. He doesn't respect me—why should I offer him any of my own?"

Petra sucked in a breath, her amber eyes settling over the doorway expectantly. Any moment the captain would be back to resume his brutal antics. She wrapped one motherly arm around the boys shoulder protectively, Amos stiffened uncomfortably—unsure of how to feel about such tenderness.

"Look," Amos placated, peeling away from her warmth. "I don't think he should hold my hand and be my best friend. I get it it's his job to be my Captain, but I don't understand these pointless, rigorous, _stupid_ tests. I mean, do you?"

They exchanged sidelong glances and offered exasperated sighs.

"No," Eld agreed. "You're right, kid. I don't get it—yet—but I feel like I can—like I can trust him. Like he has a reason for all of this."

"That's just what he wants you to think."

"Because it's true." A new voice cut through Eld's response. Goggles poised above her eyes, ponytail holding back a mess of auburn tangles, there stood Hange Zoe with a stack of documents. "Captain Levi is a bit…erm…_unorthodox_—but then so are all of the geniuses in any given field. And you, of all people should understand that. Why do you think he chose you five?"

A wild, maddening glimmer shined in her luminous eyes as she observed each recruit. _Erwin will be pleased with Levi's choices…I think they will do quite nicely._ Shifting the documents in her arms, she smiled and loosened a long, awkward-for-them, laugh. "Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Hange Zoe. I'm in charge of the research facility here."

That piqued Amos's interest. "Research? On Titans?"

Looking impressed, Hange smiled strangely—unsettling the newly appointed scouts. "Yes—are you interested in the friendly giants as well, little one?"

_Well, this is new. I don't think I've ever heard them called __**that**__ before. Not even by __**my**__ people. _

"Not unless it's to kill them, no." Amos eyed the papers the peculiar stranger clutched more closely, trying desperately to make out the words scrawled there in black ink.

_Perhaps our answers are there? _

"Aww, really? That's not very nice. I suppose I can understand the sentiment though—they do have quite the appetite for human flesh, huh?"

The four scouts beside Amos stared in confusion and horror at the deranged scientist. She paid no mind, perhaps it never even occurred for her to in the first place.

"Listen," she said, pushing her goggles up the remainder of her forehead. "I just wanted to say good luck in your RECTIFICATION exam. It will all make sense someday. Cross my heart, hope to die."

"Rectification?" Gunther looked baffled at Hange, who settled onto the vacant couch, spreading the paperwork carelessly across the remaining cushions. Amos scooted closer.

_Just a little farther… _

"R.E.C.T.I.F.Y. It's just a little nickname Levi's tests have earned over the years." Hanje gave a dismissive wave of her hand, crossing one leg over the other.

"Telling stories again, Hange?" Levi's familiar voice washed down Amos's back, startling him back toward the safety of his team.

"Ah, just the man I wanted to see. Come. We have a lot to discuss tonight, and very little time to do it."

"I'm going to need a lot of ale, aren't I?" Jerking his chin toward the door, he signaled the five of them to leave.

They obeyed—even Amos.

_Time to send my message. _

XXX

"We will attack three months from today. The scouts will be going on a mission outside the walls then. The outlier district of Shiganshina will be easy to overrun—start there. Then move onto Maria." Reiner read the parchment with sharp blue eyes. "We will find it. Even if we have to destroy every wall, we will. Our freedom is ours. Signed, Aria."

Bertholdt and Annie scooted closer to the fire, pressing their frozen mouths to the juncture of their knees. Reiner threw the letter into the white-hot flames, watching it turn quickly to ash.

"It's already been a year," Annie said. Shadows danced across her hollow face. "Do you really think we can do it?"

"Everyone who's tried before is dead," Betholdt offered solemnly, stoking the fire.

Reiner wiped a flecked set of fingers over his eyes, nose, and mouth. "This time will be different. I can feel it."

Annie and Bertholdt looked doubtfully at the raging flames. Reiner said with assurance; with passion; with need: "This time we're going home."

XXX

**Author's note: Thank you for reading! Please review and let me know what you think. **


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